Lost in Showbiz thought it couldn't be any more shocked by the revelations about Jimmy Savile's alleged paedophilia. It started out aghast, not merely at what's claimed to have taken place, but the harsh light it shines upon the music industry of the late 60s and early 70s. Who would previously have thought such a thing could happen in that halcyon age? The charts were full of carefree, innocent hits. There was Gary Puckett and the Union Gap's Young Girl: "Beneath the perfume and the makeup/ you're just a baby in disguise/ and though you know it's wrong to be alone with me/ that come-on look is in your eyes." The Lovin' Spoonful's Younger Girl: "Should I hang around/ acting like her brother?/ In a few more years/ they'll call us just right for each other./ And why, if I wait I'll just die."

Over in San Francisco, Grateful Dead were offering their extempore version of Sonny Boy Williamson's Good Morning Little Schoolgirl. "Good morning little schoolgirl, can I come home with you/ … I want to ride with your little machine/ I want to put a tiger, baby,/ in your sweet little tank." The Rolling Stones were thrilling their audiences with Stray Cat Blues: "I can see that you're 15 years old,/ No, I don't want your ID./ And I can see you're so far from home/ … Don't look so scared … it's no hanging matter,/ it's no capital crime."

Great days! As those baby boomers are always so keen to tell us, we certainly won't see their like again. Who would have believed that this was the kind of climate in which people would simply turn a blind eye to a famous disc jockey and television personality's rampant paedophile tendencies?

Nevertheless, Lost in Showbiz is forced to concede that there came a point at which the scale of what Savile is alleged to have done became weirdly, horribly deadening. As every day brought a new, increasingly awful story, LiS believed it had reached some kind of plateau of anger and despair. The sheer volume of accusations defies any kind of rational belief: you just start to feel numb.

But that, of course, was before OK! magazine got involved, splashing big on its front cover with a WORLD EXCLUSIVE revealing Savile's first celebrity victim. LiS is shamefaced to confess that when it saw that said celebrity victim was Kerry Katona, its immediate thought was this probably represented some kind of depressingly hamfisted and desperate attempt to glom on to an authentically terrible saga for the benefit of publicity. How very wrong Lost in Showbiz was. Having read Katona's story, it feels duty-bound to point out that it in no way represents a wearyingly contemptuous attempt at selling a crappy magazine on the flimsiest of pretexts, that in its cynicism somehow belittles Savile's actual victims. Let us turn to page 121 of the hard-hitting journal of record – sandwiched between exciting news of Girls Aloud's comeback and an advertorial for Invisalign ("the virtually invisible way to straighten your teeth and help you get the smile you've always wanted") – and relive what transpired.

"I met him when I was in Atomic Kitten," offers Katona. "We were getting off a train and he was walking towards us. We were like, 'Now then! Now then!'"

So far, so inconsequential, but how hollow their carefree laughter must subsequently have seemed in light of the terrible events that were about to take place. These are described in blunt, stark prose, the better to communicate their full horror: "He looked at us in a pervy way."

That sound you can hear is Lost in Showbiz stuffing its fist in its mouth, in an ill-fated attempt to stifle the involuntary yell of traumatised incredulity. It feels impelled to repeat the allegation so that readers may understand the whole new fathom of perversion they reveal: to further compound his other crimes, Savile once looked at Atomic Kitten in a "funny" way.

"I've always thought he was a pervert, he had that look about him," concludes Katona, firmly: possession of "that look" being very much the international standard in judging whether someone is a rancid sex criminal or not. While it applauds Katona's bravery in coming forward and laying bare her ordeal, it wonders aloud why she didn't immediately contact the relevant authorities at the time. Perhaps, despite her cast-iron evidence – not merely looking at her in a "pervy" way, but "having that look about him" – she feared she would be met with a wall of silence and disbelief. We should be thankful she now feels emboldened to tell her story.